


phosphene

by bipp_splapl



Series: to reckon [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Dead People, Injury, Prologue, Spoilers, major spoilers for thh, this entire series will be spoilers, this is mostly to establish all the works coming next in this collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23809201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bipp_splapl/pseuds/bipp_splapl
Summary: in which oowada mondo talks to ghosts.
Relationships: Kuwata Leon & Maizono Sayaka, Kuwata Leon & Oowada Mondo
Series: to reckon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715428
Comments: 1
Kudos: 66





	phosphene

Pain.

Shooting pain, like sparks of electricity through his muscles and tendons. Permeating every part of the body, mind, soul. Pain ever-present, pain universal, pain snapping its fingers and demanding, _“Hey, over here.”_ All there is, ever is, ever was, ever will be was pain.

And then, like any wave crashing against the shore, it subsides. Pulling away, leaving behind soft sand, and maybe a sand dollar or two. Muddy, dull, but soft to the touch. A door swinging the other way.

Bright lights seeped into his mind even though his eyelids stayed clenched shut. The dots flickered in the darkness, like fireworks over a river in late summer. With a groan, Mondo pushed his hands against his sockets, hoping to dull out the colors. It didn’t work that well. A word popped up in his mind. _Phosphene_. Yeah. That’ll do.

He could sense a presence looming above, like a weight ghosting his chest. Someone, Mondo thought, was looking at him. _Great_. With a groan, the biker rubbed his eyes with his fists, hoping to scrub away the splitting migraine before having to talk to anyone. Jesus, what did he do last night? He’d never been a hangover type. This is ridiculous.

Something nudged his side, and Mondo groaned. Felt like the tip of a combat boot (not that Mondo knew what that felt like….)

“Hey dipshit,” a voice called. “You hangin’ in there?”

A familiar voice, melodic albeit a little nasally. Mondo knew this voice, he knew he knew this voice. Knew it like he’d heard it for years, knew it like the back of his hand. Something like you’d hear from a radio DJ on an alternative chann-

Mondo’s eyes shot open, a flash of lavender met ice blue. Leaning way too far into his personal space was a ghost. An actual, real-life ghost, like the kind out of Hagakure’s bullshit stories. Mondo pushed the face away, (touched the ghost, why can I touch the ghost) and scrambled backward, chest puffing hard. In front of him was someone dead, someone who died, someone the biker knew for a _fact_ died because he WATCHED him die, and yet here he was. Greasy as all hell, clad entirely in leather and skin-tight denim, light tinkling noises every time he moved from the amount of metal covering his body. Skinny, skittish, and the only son-of-a-bitch Mondo had ever met who can somehow make a goatee work for him - Kuwata Leon, the former Ultimate Baseball Star.

“Good morning, shithead! Glad to see you join us,” Leon said with a toothy smile. Mondo’s eyes’ desperately scanned his face for any meaning, trying to make sense. He was covered in bandages, with a giant eyepatch over his left eye, and gauze covering right cheek and neck. Around his forehead was a white bandana, positioned to keep fiery red hair out of his face. Some of his teeth were missing. They were not missing the last time they talked. When was the last time they talked? Before the trial and _oh, Jesus Christ-_

Cocking his head, Leon continued with a chuckle. “What’s the matter, hotshot? It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A bandaged hand stuck out into Mondo’s face, making a grabby motion. _Fuck, he even smelled the same, like pot and and sweat and cheap blueberry perfume._ With suspicion, the biker tentatively grabbed it, and before long, he was heaved onto his feet. Leon is real. He must be real. Can’t pick someone up unless you’re real. Which means-

Before Leon could crack another joke, he felt himself being dragged up by his collar with a little _Eep!_ Dangling, he was held eye-to-eye with probably the most terrifying motherfucker he’d met in his life.

“This better be a sick fucking joke, Kuwata,” Mondo said, shaking the baseball player a little. While he tried to remain composed, an audible voice crack still made its way through. Before Leon could stammer out a response, a cheery voice chirped from behind, causing Mondo to whip around, dragging the baseball player along with him.

“Greetings Oowada-kun, and welcome to your after-” the girl said, her voice trailing off nowhere in particular. Maizono Sayaka stood before him, just as Leon moments before. She looked almost the same as before, albeit paler than he remembered. Almost a ghostly white. Sickly. Ethereal. Instead of her blue uniform, she wore a flowy white outfit, tied off with a giant pink sash around her middle, positioned in a way that looked like it was holding something together instead of holding something up.

His eyes met hers, and behind that pleasant facade was something stormy. Mondo starred at the former Pop Sensation, stunned. Without noticing, he loosened his grip on Leon’s shirt, the baseball player dropping to the ground with an almost-comical wheeze.

As Leon struggled to catch his breath, Sayaka walked over to join them. With a steady smile, she offered Mondo her hand. “Welcome, Oowada Mondo, to your afterlife.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is the prologue for "TO RECKON," an anthology where the class of 78 has to face their own mortality head on. all of these stories can be read as standalone pieces, or as a part of a larger set. i mostly wanted to explore life after death and how these relationships (and characters) would change after danganronpa.


End file.
